


Tumblr RQ's

by billsexual



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 08:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17894687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billsexual/pseuds/billsexual
Summary: i never uploaded these from my tumblr and i've now deleted that.chapters 1 + 2: Oh, Arthur [Arthur/Reader, angst, fluff]chapter 3: Dynamite [Bill/Reader, smut]chapter 4: Proposal [Bill/Reader, fluff]chapter 5: Opposite Sides [Bill/Reader, angst]chapter 6: Sharing [Charles/Reader, smut]





	1. Oh, Arthur [Part One]

In the aftermath of the O’Driscoll attack on Shady Belle, after you’d helped clear out the bodies, you felt like you deserved a hot bath and a decent meal.

That’s how you found yourself in Saint Denis, freshly washed and with a full stomach. Your thoughts turned to Arthur, he’d been distant the last couple of days and you thought it was because of everything that had been happening recently.

An idea came to you, you still had some spare money from the last job you helped with and decided that it might cheer Arthur up if you gave him a gift. You remembered that he’d mentioned being low on horse tonics. It wasn’t the most romantic of gifts, but it was practical, something he’d appreciate more.

When you rounded the corner to the stables you jumped back in shock. Arthur was already outside, harassing a stable boy. Making sure you were hidden from sight you took a quick look at him.

Why was he hanging around outside hassling folks instead of being inside buying things?

There was a commotion from within the stable and when the door opened you hid again.

“I have half a mind to kill you myself.”

You wanted to look at who was shouting but then there was a reply that made your blood run cold.

“Daddy!”

That was her. Mary Linton. You had to check to make sure.

Arthur had his head bowed to hide himself from Mary’s father and didn’t see you.

But you saw Mary. Despite the stress her father was putting her through she still looked as beautiful as ever.

Hiding again, you tried to pull yourself together. _He’s with me,_ you told yourself. _He’s just helping her, like in Valentine._

_But he told you back then that Mary had sent him a letter, what did he tell you this time?_

You shook your head, like you wished you could shake your negative thoughts. There was only one thing you could think to do.

You were going to have to follow him.

Even though Arthur and Mary were being quiet you could still hear her father’s footsteps and soon you were able to follow them. To any civilian it must have looked like an odd game of chase, but you didn’t care.

“He’s just went between those crates,” Mary said. Your heart seemed to drop, you weren’t going to be able to sneak around that close to them, were you?

No, you had to. You kept close to the floor, not caring about dirtying your skirt.

“Come here, quick,” Mary said.

Not even daring to breathe in case you were heard, you looked over the box.

It felt like your heart was in your throat, which was the only thing that stopped the sob in your chest.

There was your Arthur stood with his arms almost pinning Mary against the wall and he was looking at her in a way that he’d never looked at you.

He moved his head and his hat obscured the two of them from your view.

Were they kissing?

When Arthur pulled back his voice sounded gruff and low. You’d heard that voice before, you knew how to get him to sound like that.

Without making a sound, you turned away and sank to the floor as he and Mary carried on walking. You didn’t need to see any more.

There was an aching in your chest, causing you to claw at your blouse so you could try to physically hold yourself together.

You weren’t sure of how long you sat there, shivering as the day became cooler, your mind racing about your relationship with Arthur, noticing things you hadn’t noticed before.

The way his smile never reached his eyes when you talked of your future, how he’d dip his head in embarrassment if you kissed his cheek at camp and how he’d only make love to you in the near dark.

It had never been about you.

He’d just been using you to keep his bed warm and his cock wet.

“Miss? Excuse me, miss?”

You looked up and blinked at the stranger.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” you said, in a voice that sounded quite unlike your own. You got to your feet, refusing the hand to help you up. “Good day.” You nodded and, in a daze, you made your way to where you’d hitched your horse.

How you managed to get back to Shady Belle without being attacked by man or beast you had no idea because you weren’t focused at all.

You nodded at Lenny who was on guard duty as you passed him.

It was like your body was on auto-pilot as you made your way to yours and—just Arthur’s room now, and began to collect together what stuff you had in there. You worked slow, checking every corner of the room to make sure there was no trace left of you.

You’d planned to be long gone by the time Arthur returned but luck wasn’t on your side.

“(Y/N)?” he asked.

All the muscles in your body tensed and you turned slowly to see him leaning on the doorframe. Clenching your jaw, you turned back around and did a final sweep of the room. You couldn’t see anything in sight, so you figured it was time to leave.

“Woah, woah,” Arthur said as you tried to barrel past him. “What’s wrong? Where’s all your stuff?”

You wanted to ignore him, just walk away and leave him wondering what he’d done and why he wasn’t good enough.

Let him feel a fraction of hurt that you felt.

But you couldn’t.

“I saw you, Arthur Morgan,” you hissed, not wanting to be overheard. “I saw you with her!”

The smile on his face faltered for a brief second but you saw it.

“What you talking about, woman?” he asked.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” You tried to push by him again, but he grabbed hold of your waist and pulled you further in the room, making sure the door was closed behind him.

“Let go of me, Arthur,” you insisted.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

Normally, such a thing would leave you weak at your knees, but the thought of Arthur and Mary pressed up against that wall… where had they gone after? What had they done?

An image of the two of them in bed together presented itself to you and bile rose in your throat.

“Mary Linton.”

Arthur let go of you, his shock was apparent on his face.

“That weren’t what it loo-”

“I know perfectly well what it looked like and what it was, so save your breath.” You shoved him away from you and stormed from the room. You were just about to head down the stairs when he exited his room.

“(Y/N)!” he called and against your better judgement, you stopped.

“Tell me, Arthur, did I ever mean anything more than just a hole for you to keep your dick warm while you waited for Mary to change her mind?”

Arthur opened his mouth to reply before closing it again and looking away, the answer was written all over his face.

“You’re pathetic,” you told him. “You act like a good man, Arthur Morgan, but you’re not.”


	2. Oh, Arthur [Part 2]

_“You act like a good man, Arthur Morgan, but you’re not.”_

It would be Arthur’s luck if his last thoughts were of the last words that (Y/N) had said to him. She’d refused to speak to him since she spotted him with Mary in Saint Denis.

Another punch from the man in front of him wiped Arthur’s mind of thought.

“I’m-  I’m an American…,” he managed to choke out, “My name is Leviticus Cornwall.”

The man walked away, and Arthur looked around for means of escape. He wasn’t going to die on this goddamn island, he refused to die before apologizing to (Y/N), for it was her face he was thinking of.

_You’re a piece of shit_ , he told himself as he began to rock on the chair. Thankfully, the fall pulled the ropes away from his wrists and he was able to attack his captor. When the man was either knocked out or dead, Arthur didn’t particularly care which, he began to help the others trapped with him.

He had a chance to live, to tell (Y/N) that he was sorry, that she was the one he wanted and how he’d try to spend the rest of his life making it up to her if she’d let him.

-x-

You were inside the small cabin, trying to clean it, when you heard Abigail yell. It sounded like she’d said “Arthur” but that couldn’t be right. They’d all gone off in a boat to Tahiti, right? Carefully, you moved into view and saw the man himself hugging Charles.

Your heart felt like it was going to stop. He… he looked awful, and not because he’d not had chance to shave yet. His eyes seemed dark and haunted, he was thin and washed out despite the sunburn on his face.

When he broke away from Charles, he seemed to search you out.

“(Y/N)!”

He moved quickly towards you before coming to a stop in front of you, a hand hesitantly held out in front of him, like he was unsure of you.

_Well_ , you thought, _that makes two of us._

You stared at him for a few moments, feeling a lump in your throat.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Arthur,” you said, your voice weak and tears in your eyes.

“Me too,” he said before he pulled you into a hug. “I am so sorry,” he whispered into your ear, so nobody else could hear. “I treated you like…”

“I know,” you replied, subtly wiping your eyes on his shirt.

He held you while everyone let him know about John’s imprisonment and how Sadie and Charles helped moved the camp. Every so often you’d feel his lips brush against your forehead. You knew that eventually the two of you would have to talk properly and clear the air but as of right then it was enough that he was alive.

Once he was fed, he led you over to a small table where you both sat with a cup of coffee each.

“So…” you began, taking a sip of your drink to ease the silence between you and him.

“That thing with Mary,” he said, keeping his voice low.

You looked away, not wanting him to see the hurt in your eyes.

“I want you to know that nothing happened,” Arthur said as he rested his hand near yours on the table.

“You were kissing her,” you muttered. At his silence, you looked up and saw confusion on his face. “When you the two of you were pressed against that wall,” you clarified.

“We weren’t kissing,” he said, “we were hiding from her father.”

“But…” you said, thinking about what you saw.

“I’m a bad man, and I didn’t appreciate you, but I wouldn’t go with someone else. Not like that.”

If he’d have been anyone else you wouldn’t have believed him, but Arthur had never lied to you over big things like that. Sure, your relationship had been full of little white lies but not anything big like that.

“You mean that?” you asked, voice no louder than a whisper.

“I mean it,” he said, placing his hand over yours.

Dutch’s arrival broke up your moment, but Arthur held your hand as everyone discussed what they should be doing next. Then Bill arrived and all hell seemed to break loose outside with the Pinkerton’s. Arthur pushed you to the floor, covering your body with his.

“Stay here, I don’t want to lose you again,” he said, his tone urgent.

-x-

The following morning you made sure Arthur sleep in, he looked like he needed the rest. His skin was still sallow and the bags under his eyes looked worse. After your chores were done you took a mug of coffee into the little room in one of the other cabins.

“Arthur?” you asked.

He stirred at the sound of your voice and sat up. The flimsy blanket that covered him dropped to his waist, exposing his chest.

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking the mug off you. He patted the empty space on the bed next to him.

He coughed as you sat down.

“You need to see the doctor,” you told him, but he just shook his head.

“It’s probably something to do with the heat in Guarma, it’s nothing.” His tone was dismissive, reminding you of how he used to treat you and your gaze dropped to your hands as you wondered if you should say something or not.

“But, if it’s worrying you, I can go get it looked at.”

Your eyes met his and you saw the soft smile on his face.

“Things are going to be different this time, (Y/N). If you still want me, that is.”

You reached up and cupped his cheek with your hand.

“You’re a bit of an idiot, Arthur Morgan, but I never stopped wanting you. Well, maybe for a week or so I didn’t but that’s in the past now.”

“The past,” he agreed, before he leaned in and kissed you gently.


	3. Dynamite

You’d been getting on his nerves for a while now.

“What a _dynamite_ idea, Bill.”

“Be careful it doesn’t _blow up_ on you, Williamson.”

“Oh, it’s probably a dud. Bill, you should know about _duds_ , is this thing going to _blow_ or not?”

What annoyed him even more than your digs at him was the fact that he couldn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off you. In the day it was easy to avoid you, he’d slope off somewhere, run a job for Dutch… but at night he could see how the campfire lit up your features and how mellow you looked when you thought no one was watching.

It annoyed him that his thoughts would turn to you on those lonely nights on guard duty. Thoughts on how you’d come out of the woods, ask him if he needed company before he fucked you against a tree, one hand covering your mouth.

He shook his head and took another drink, determined to not think about that. When he finished his drink, he got up to get another and saw you talking with Arthur. Of course Morgan had told you about the botched dynamite on the train job.

Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, he stalked over to the trees, no longer in the mood for company. As he walked, he could hear footsteps creeping up behind him. He slowed as he disappeared amongst the tree line, wanting to see who was sneaking up on him, even though he felt like he already knew.

“Bill?”

Of course it was you, it would be.

You hadn’t spotted him yet and he wasn’t sure how to act.

“Bill? I can’t think of a pun that’d make a _bang_ , but,” you paused to laugh, “I suppose you’d know about things that won’t-”

He’d had enough. Grabbing your arm, he spun you around.

“Shut up,” he growled. “Just shut up!”

Bill heard your voice catch, but he paid it no mind as he pressed you against the tree.

“I’ve had enough of your little jokes, (Y/N).”

His face was so close to yours that had it been daylight, he would’ve been able to count every eyelash.

“Well maybe if you could do a simple job,” you said, poking his chest with a finger.

“Shut up,” he growled again, his voice lower than before.

“Make me,” you whispered.

Bill paused, trying to make sense of your words. He decided he was overthinking things and thought of the easiest way to keep you quiet. His lips were on yours and he pressed you closer against the tree.

Curling a hand into your hair, he pulled away.

“Get on your knees,” he growled as his dick strained against his jeans.

“Huh?” you asked, but you complied when he pressed on your shoulder.

“You said to make you shut up,” he said, watching you intently as a patch of moonlight made it easier to see your wide eyes looking up at him. “Can you think of a better way?”

“No,” you whispered, unzipping his jeans and pulling his straining hard cock out of his jeans.

Bill entwined his fingers in your hair as you slowly ran your tongue up his cock, before taking the head of it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.

“Not in the mood for you being a cocktease, (Y/N),” Bill insisted as he pushed his cock further in your mouth. He closed his eyes and groaned as he heard you choke, to him it was the best sound that had came out of your mouth the whole day.

As you sucked and swallowed around his cock, Bill couldn’t help but move his hips forward. It was shallow thrusts at first, but his strokes became deeper the more he felt your throat relax.

Both of his hands were in your hair when he felt you take his whole cock and he held you in place, hearing you choke again and feeling your fingernails digging into his thighs even through his jeans.

“(Y/N), I’m gonna-” Bill couldn’t finish his sentence before he came down your throat. He pulled you off and looked down at you, the moonlight highlighting the few odd tears that you’d let slip.

You got to your feet, tucking his spent cock back into his jeans and zipping him back up. Smirking at him, you grabbed his hand and pulled it towards your waistband.

“No,” he said, pulling his hand out of your grasp.

“What the hell, Bill?” you asked, shock coloring your tone.

“I’ve had enough of your teasing, if you can behave yourself until tomorrow night then maybe, _maybe_ , I’ll let you get off.”

“But!”

You were cut off by his lips pressing against yours.


	4. Proposal

The first time he asked, he had been drunk, and it had been less of a proposal and more of a declaration.

“I’m going to marry you, (Y/N)” he’d told you, lifting his beer bottle in your direction.

“Are you now, Mr. Williamson?” you’d asked, ignoring the drunken snort of laughter from John.

Bill’s eyebrows had knitted together in confusion. “Not now, but one day I am.”

“That’s not what…” You knew there was no point in explaining what you’d meant. “Come on, Bill, time for bed.”

He’d grumbled but took your offered hand as you led him back to your tent.

The next morning, he couldn’t remember letting you be the big spoon for once, never mind what he’d said.

-x-

You weren’t snooping, not really. Your horse needed to be brushed and fed and it just so happened to be near where Bill was on guard duty. You knew that he would be finishing soon and someone else would be taking over.

But you hadn’t expected it to be John and you certainly hadn’t expected him to remember the conversation. It’d been nearly three days since.

John didn’t see you as he called out to Bill.

“Williamson!”

Thankfully, Bill couldn’t see you either when he turned around.

“Marston.” He’d greeted and started to walk back to the camp, until John stopped him with a simple hand on his shoulder.

“So, did you get a proper answer the following morning?”

“What you talking about?” Bill asked, his tone sharp, which usually meant he was either hungry or horny.

“You know, when you told (Y/N) that you were going to marry them.”

Your stomach dropped, knowing just how embarrassed Bill would be.

He seemed to splutter before managing a weak, “Shut up, Marston.”

Bill walked straight by your horse but didn’t see you, obviously focused on one thing and paying no attention to his surroundings. Once he was out of hearing range you poked your head from behind your horse.

“Thanks a lot, John,” you snapped, causing him to jump. Before he could reply you stormed off in the same direction as Bill and saw him about to ride out of camp on Brown Jack.

“Bill,” you called to him. “Bill, don’t go!”

“Move out the way,” he snarled but you moved to stand in front of his horse.

“No. Bill Williamson you get off that horse right now.” You crossed your arms and made it clear you weren’t going to move.

The two of you kept eye contact until Bill grumbled under his breath and began to dismount. You hitched Brown Jack to the closest post as soon as Bill’s feet hit the ground.

“Tent,” you ordered. Bill raised his eyebrows at your tone; you’d never raised your voice or ordered anyone around before, but he didn’t argue.

You tied the tent closed and turned to Bill. The tent was easily big enough for the both of you, but he’d decided to crowd you.

Taking a deep breath, you said “Do you want to marry me?”

Bill’s cheeks turned pink and he looked away.

“Why didn’t you tell me what I’d say the next day?” he asked, ignoring your question.

Knowing it would be childish to point out that you’d asked a question first, you decided to bite your tongue and answer him.

“Because I didn’t think you meant it,” you replied. “I thought that because you’d been drinking you just decided to say it and I didn’t want to bring it up in case you didn’t mean it.”

“I did,” he said quickly, still not looking at you. “I do… I… Look I can’t remember saying it but I mean it.”

There was a funny swelling feeling in your chest that made you feel like you were floating.

“Bill,” you said, trying to control the smile on your face. You placed your hand on his cheek and finally, he turned to look at you. “If you want to ask me again, I won’t say no.” You kissed him and pushed him back towards your bed.

-x-

The second time he asked you, he was sober. You were lying next to him, one of your legs entwined with his, his arm around your middle. The two of you were worn out from making up.

“(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yes, Bill,” you replied, looking up at him.

“I… Will you do me the honor of becoming-”

“Yes!” you said, loudly.

“I didn’t get to finish,” he said but he didn’t seem to mind too much as you kissed him once more.


	5. Opposite Sides

Tensions within the camp had been bad for a while now and it had even trickled through to your relationship with Bill. He was clingier, holding you close around the campfire and almost smothering you with his arms wrapped around you at night.

It didn’t stop the arguments though. You were there when he berated John and Charles for betraying Dutch, and you were there when he confronted, an obviously dying, Arthur.

“The hell is your problem, Bill?” you’d asked.

“Not now, (Y/N),” he’d growled in reply and you heard him muttering under his breath about ‘loyalty’ and ‘Dutch’.

Everyone knew how it was going to end, the question was just when. You thought it was the end when Agent Milton rode through and took Abigail, but the Pinkerton’s didn’t find your hiding place. It was after they’d disappeared that you and Miss Grimshaw had helped Tilly get away with Jack.

You raised your hand in farewell as they took off.

“Should we start packing up?” you asked Susan.

“Not much left to pack up,” she’d replied.

“Should we leave?”

She turned to face you and for once, she didn’t even look like she was about to snap a harsh remark. “I’ve been with Dutch and the boys for over twenty years,” she said. “I’m not leaving now but you’re free to go.”

You stayed, for Bill.

The men weren’t far behind Tilly, but you were stricken when you couldn’t see John, Arthur or Sadie. You tried to tell yourself that maybe they’d gone for Abigail but the knots in your stomach remained.

“Where’s everyone else?” you asked, watching Bill, the man you thought you’d be spending the rest of your life with, as he grabbed the large sack that had been tied to Brown Jack.

“John’s dead,” Micah said bluntly.

His words knocked you back and you thought you heard Susan gasp in shock.

“Arthur? Sadie?” you asked, not wanting to hear any more bad news.

Dutch looked behind him, seemingly noticing for the first time that the two were no longer riding with him.

It was Bill who answered your question. “He’s probably taken her to save John’s whore,” he said, without a hint of emotion on his face as you flinched at his derogatory terminology. He addressed Dutch with his next comment, “Even though you said to leave her.”

The men carried on talking, including Micah making a few jabs about Arthur and his illness, but you slipped away and sat on your bedroll, to process everything you’d been told.

_Poor John_ , you thought, he’d finally accepted Jack as his and now they’d never have the chance to have a proper father-son relationship.

_Please let Arthur and Sadie save Abigail, the boy was going to need a parent._ You let a few tears roll down your cheeks and quickly wiped them away.

Micah was shouting about packing up and reluctantly, you pulled yourself up and together, there’d be time for tears later, you hoped.

You began to sort yours and Bill’s things when you felt his arms around your waist.

“Normally you’re pleased to see me back and alive,” he said, voice quiet enough so that it wouldn’t carry but there was almost a dangerous tone to his words.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Bill,” you said, but your voice had no pep to it, no enjoyment. You were happy he was alive, that was the truth, you didn’t want anyone else to die but poor John…

You wiped at your eyes again. “Bill,” you said, extracting yourself from his embrace, “I need to finish sorting this out, why don’t you go and start packing up too?”

He turned you to look at him and you had to bite your lip to stop your tears. He was still the same Bill on the outside, same beard that you loved to run your hands through, same hat that you loved to wear, same check top. But his expression, his demeanour?

That wasn’t the Bill Williamson you were in love with.

You looked away first.

He sighed and placed a kiss on your forehead before going to start packing.

As you watched him walk away a stray thought crossed your mind:

_You should’ve left with Mary-Beth._

 

-x-

 

The sound of horse’s hooves had you looking up from where you were helping Susan secure a wagon. 

“Arthur,” you breathed.

He looked worse than ever.

“We just got plenty of time, Micah,” he called from where he was sat on his horse. Susan seemed almost overcome at the sight of him but managed to pull herself together.

You couldn’t rein in your emotions and a sob rose in your chest.

In horror, you watched as Arthur began to tell Dutch about what had happened when he and Sadie had rescued Abigail.

When Arthur revealed that Micah had been the rat your eyes searched for Bill, finding him near the cave entrance. He was too close to Micah’s side of the divide and would have to walk in front of Dutch to reach you.

“No… it damn well doesn’t,” Micah said and that was enough for Arthur who aimed his gun at Micah. You fumbled for your pistol and kept it close to your side.

Bill had his gun in his hands, seemingly raising it in Arthur’s direction.

This was it, you thought, he’d picked his side. You raised your pistol and aimed it at one of Micah’s friends, unable to train it on the man you once loved.

“Dutch!”

The voice sounded like John, but Micah had said…

“John?” That was Bill, even with all the blood pumping around your body you still recognised his confused tone.

John walked into the camp, injured, but alive.

“Oh, John,” you muttered, but he only had eyes, and words, for Dutch.

“You left me, you left me to die.”

_This is when_ , you thought, _Dutch betrayed his sons, and this is when it’ll all end_.

You listened to them speak but your eyes were on Bill’s and he was watching you back, just as intently.

“All of you,” Arthur said, his gun and his focus still trained on Micah, “you pick your side now, because this is over.”

You stepped closer to Arthur. Everything you’d ever known about Arthur and Micah led you to know who was in the right.

Bill jerked his head, indicating that you should join him, but you shook your head. He did it again, more insistently, aiming his rifle where he thought you should be stood.

“No, Bill,” you said gently. He heard you though, even over Susan who was telling Micah to put down his gun.

It was Javier shouting about Pinkerton’s that had you break Bill’s gaze and then the gunshot. You watched in horror as Susan Grimshaw, former lover and forever loyal to Dutch, fell to the ground.

Your heart was beating wildly as Dutch aimed both his pistols on Micah and Arthur. You wanted to go and help Susan in her final moments, but your feet wouldn’t move.

John joined you and Arthur as he tried to get Javier and Bill to see reason.

Looking back around towards Bill you saw him raise his gun.

It was aimed on you. 

The pain in your chest at the sight of him was unimaginable. Surely getting shot would hurt less. You thought about everything the two of you had done.

The little trinkets he’d get for you from jobs.

The pelts he’d made for you so you wouldn’t get cold.

The nights the two of you would spend together.

The first time he’d said “I love you, (Y/N)”

“Bill,” you said. “Come on, Bill, please.”

He shook his head.

Your future was burning up before your very eyes. There’d be no getting out, no cabin in the woods, no more hearing how much he loved you.

You aimed your pistol at him.

The stand off was broken by a gunshot and a yell from the Pinkerton’s and everyone ran for cover. You stayed close to Arthur and John as the fight broke out.

Making sure your head was covered you tried to see where Bill and the others were and found them fleeing.

He didn’t even spare you one last glance.

 

-x-

 

The three of you escaped through the caves, Pinkerton’s behind you. 

“You okay, (Y/N)?” Arthur called as the three of you began to climb upwards to get out.

“Yeah, yeah,” you stammered. “Susan… Bill…”

“I know,” he replied. “We’ll get you out, get you safe.”

He told John about Micah, but his voice was getting worse. You and John exchanged a quick look, your broken heart seemingly breaking even more.

“Abigail’s safe,” Arthur told John and told them where they were before he turned to you. “You need to go, (Y/N). Those Pinkerton’s don’t know you- stop crying, we haven’t no time for tears. Go, now, while it’s empty. Hide in the forest and wait for it to calm down.”

“You’re a good man, Arthur Morgan,” you told him as his and John’s horses came around the corner.

“Go,” he said.

You turned to John and nodded at him.

“Be safe, boys,” you told them before running on foot through the trees. You doubted the Murfree Brood were going to be around what with all the commotion going off, but just in case, you ran, and ran, and didn’t stop until you reached Annesburg.

 

-x-

 

Valentine had changed since 1899. Sure, the streets were still full of horse shit and the town still smelt like sheep, but it was your home and had been for about seven years or so. 

Sometimes it was hard to believe that you were once part of a gang, a sentiment that you and Mary-Beth shared when you saw her that once at the train station.

Three years after you’ve moved in, Sadie, Charles and John had killed Micah. Sadie had told you when she was last in town, before she told you about John’s ranch, Charles moving to Canada and that she was going to South America.

You hadn’t seen anyone for a good few years, but your brain still dwelled on the past and what-if’s. You’d read in the papers about the Williamson gang, but you’d gloss over the article, not wanting the hurt that still came whenever you saw his name.

In your nightmares he’d still have his gun pointed at you, but he’d be older, crueller and he’d pull the trigger and laugh. In your dreams, the two of you were at a cabin, but he’d be happier, less bloodthirsty and he’d hold you in his arms as the two of you watched the sunset.

Both had you waking up in tears.

Maybe you’d never be free.

Then the news came as you were on your way to work one morning. You’d brought your paper as usual and was reading it while the shop was empty and that’s when you saw the headline.

**WILLIAMSON AND ESCUELLA CAUGHT AND KILLED IN MEXICO**  

There was a picture each of both men, but it didn’t look like them.

A weight lifted from inside you and even though you prepared yourself for tears you found that none came.

You were free.

Bill, the man you knew, not the one who had done all the heinous acts, was free.

The doorbell to the shop made a tinkling noise.

It was time to start the day.

It was time to let the past stay in the past.

The future was rapidly approaching.

It was time to live.


	6. Sharing

You pulled your blanket tighter around you as you shivered again. The campfire was still burning but the warmth of it wasn’t reaching you. From behind you, you could still hear Karen and Sean in the tent you shared with the blonde.

Sean was known for being quick, so you’d had no problem with agreeing to let Karen have the tent. You figured you’d be back on your own bedroll within twenty minutes.

That had been a few hours ago. Sean was still quick, but it seemed he had more than one, or three, rounds in him.

A twig snapped and you turned quickly and reached for your pistol, but you relaxed when you recognised the man walking towards you.

“Good evening, Charles,” you said, smiling at the tall man.

“Hello, (Y/N),” he said as he took a seat next to you. “You’re up late.”

“Well…” you said, before a loud moan sounded from your tent. “I’m starting to wish you’d left him in Blackwater.”

Charles laughed. “I’m beginning to feel the same,” he said. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

In reply, you simply held out your arms, indicating the campfire in front of you.

“You’ll freeze,” he replied, frowning at you.

“I don’t have anywhere else to sleep.”

Charles stared into the fire for a moment, his gaze focused before turning back to you.

“You can share my tent.”

“Oh!” You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks. “That… that’d be really nice. Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, as he gave you a small smile.

You tried to hide a yawn behind your hand, but Charles saw.

“Come on,” he said as he got to his feet. He held out his hand to help you to your feet.

It was like a thousand butterflies had taken flight when your hand touched his. You’d liked him for a while, but he’d seemed to be more interested in helping the gang and you didn’t want to disturb him with your feelings.

Charles kept hold of your hand as he led you over to his tent. He pulled back the opening to his tent and offered for you to get in first.

“Thank you,” you said again, crawling into the tent.

There was only one bedroll so you moved over as far as you could so that Charles would have enough room, forgetting briefly how broad he was. You could feel his chest pressed against your back and you desperately wanted to press back into him and steal more of his warmth.

“Are you still cold?” he asked, his voice was quiet, but his breath was warm, and your shiver had nothing to do with the lack of heat, but Charles seemed to think it was. He pulled you closer to him and draped his arm across your waist.

The two of you were quiet for a moment until you shifted your lower half to try and get comfier. Charles’s hand gripped your hip, almost to hold you in place, and a spike of arousal ran through you.

“Charles?” you asked, your voice sounded almost breathless.

“(Y/N)?”

You turned to face him, the light from the campfire illuminated part of his face and you finally found the courage to tell him how you felt. Before you could, however, he rested his hand on your cheek and stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.

_Tell him that you like him, tell him that you want him_ , you told yourself. Instead, you pressed forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

It was chaste, and sweet, and as you pulled back to apologise Charles moved with you to deepen the kiss. It was like there was a fire inside the both of you as you ruched up your skirt so you could hook a leg over his hip and pull him in closer. Reaching forward you began to unbutton his blue shirt and ran your hands down his now exposed chest.

When your hand reached his belt, he stilled his hand over yours.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed before undoing his belt and reaching into his pants. Your hand could barely fit around his cock, but you still pumped slowly, enjoying the groans he was making.

His hand was under your skirt and pushing your underwear to the side before he carefully stroked your folds. You bucked as he teased you. Wanting, needing, more you let out a whimper.

“Please, Charles,” you begged. He slid a finger inside of you as he captured your lips in a kiss again, his thumb moving to circle your clit in slow, torturous strokes.

“I don’t think you’re ready for me yet, (Y/N),” he said as he moved on top of you and began to kiss at your neck and then moved down your body.

In one motion he’d pulled off your skirt and underwear, leaving you bare from the waist down.

“Charles?” you asked, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to try and see him better.

“Shh, we don’t want to wake anyone else,” he said before pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

Your breath caught in your throat as he made his way higher and licked a line up to your sensitive nub.

“You taste good,” he told you before going back to licking and sucking at you.

Biting your lip, so as not to moan too loud, you relaxed back and pushed your hips up, needing more of Charles.

As he slid a finger inside you, you couldn’t help but gasp. Slowly, another finger joined the first and you already felt stretched.

“Please, please,” you begged again.

Seemingly sensing the urgency in your voice, Charles crooked his fingers and found a part of you that made your legs shake. You tightened down on him as his fingers grazed the spot again.

With his tongue at your clit and his fingers inside you it didn’t take you long to feel a fire begin to burn low in your stomach. You chased the feeling, pressing yourself down on his fingers to get him deeper, to fill you more.

“Charles!” you cried out, just as it became too much, and you tipped over the edge. You didn’t care if the whole camp heard.

Charles laughed softly before moving back up to kiss you on your cheek and then your lips. You could taste yourself, but it didn’t bother you.

“I should’ve asked you to share my tent long ago,” he said.

“Yes, you should’ve Mr. Smith.” You smiled up at him before pulling him back into another kiss.


End file.
